


tie your kisses round my throat

by johntography



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Captain Yamaguchi Tadashi, Captain of Bullying as Affection Tsukishima Kei, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Getting Together, M/M, Third Year, Vice-Captain Kageyama Tobio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24865021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johntography/pseuds/johntography
Summary: They started out from rock bottom, really, Kageyama and him. Kei had heard all these rumors and if he was already going to waste his time on a club, why not make it more entertaining by picking on someone who was gonna give him as good as he got? Somebody who’s called the King of the Court, who was ostracized by his own teammates, called selfish and impossible. He ought to at least try to put Kei in his place.Not that Kei would make it easy on him.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 2
Kudos: 188





	tie your kisses round my throat

**Author's Note:**

> listen, s1 kagetsukki just really ruffles my feathers. you do NOT try to get on someone's nerves unless you really want them to react heheheh
> 
> for anyone wanting to skip the smut: it's at the very end, so you can stop reading after "Do you think your simpleton mind can forget about volleyball for a minute and come over here to kiss me?"
> 
> [and here is a short playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLH_I_s3MZQOQWl_QuWn2_tWkrCF94xOom) if u like to have music while reading!

Nobody said it would be easy.

In all honesty, Kei shouldn’t even be complaining. After all and despite his once-third year upperclassmen’s expectations he wasn’t made captain. Yamaguchi was, and Kei would gladly (though not verbally) admit that his best friend had worked more than hard enough for it. He had truly blossomed in their second year, refined his skills as a pinch server and stood on the court more often than not. Yamaguchi cultivated a sense for making every single club member feel important, from the new first year manager whom Yachi took under her wing, to the new regulars, to the people who made it onto the bench and the ones who haven’t. Unsurprisingly, the number of applications grew the further Karasuno flew.

The new vice-captain is Kageyama.

It shouldn’t change much. Kageyama has always been the strategic foundation of the team, too many thoughts rushing through that one track minded brain of his before every toss. He’s been a known name since his middle school days and as such didn’t have to do much to warrant the underclassmen’s respect. Perhaps that’s what gets on Kei’s nerves. He gave up a big chunk of his nonchalant pretense a while ago, refusing to lose the position of middle blocker to Hinata, but that’s old news. What bugs Kei now are the adoring glances of the younger players that are directed at the setter without him ever having work for it.

Quite the opposite as a matter of fact: Kageyama, at his very core, is still pretty socially inept. His puns fall flat most of the time and whenever he acts angry or intimidating as a joke some of the weak-nerved kouhai actually get scared. They're pushed to their limits, blood, sweat and tears with Kageyama leading the drills alongside Yamaguchi, authority sitting snugly on his head like a crown. While there has undoubtedly been improvement in communicating with the spikers like Sugawara has taught him, a gap exists still between Sugawara’s invigorating punches and praises and Kageyama’s words that are more like stick-and-pokes. He still calls Hinata a dumbass and Hinata still tugs at his hair because it’s been getting easier to reach; and Kei honestly doesn’t understand how anyone in their right mind could want to follow him.

So, in order to let out his bubbling frustration, he’s been making an effort to piss Kageyama off, especially in front of everyone.

It starts small. They’re working on their synchronized attack, ironing out the timing with the new regulars when Katsuo, one of the new wing spikers, comments on how smart Kageyama is in how he orchestrates the timing.

Kei lets out a little chuckle. It's of the acidic sort where he half-covers his mouth with a hand that doesn’t really mean to muffle the sound. The reason is because he doesn't feel sorry, not really. 

“If you think the King is smart, you should take a look at his test scores. He once failed English so hard he had to take supplementary lessons and was almost excluded from a training match in Tokyo.”

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi warns. He sounds like he means it but if there is anyone’s wrath that Kei handles best, it’s his.

Katsuo looks confused more than anything. Hinata on the other hand is visibly torn between laughing and acting like he hasn’t heard anything in hopes that the little detail of him having experienced the same fate will be omitted.

“Oi,” Kageyama says. “This was almost two years ago. How is it relevant now?”

Kei breathes out, his lips settling in a barely noticeable frown. This is good, he thinks. If Kageyama were to get angry – hell, if he were to start a real fight with Kei – this would disturb practice and disturbing practice means worse performance and worse performance means loss and Kei doesn’t want to lose. He knows as much now.

What he doesn’t know is how to handle the low hum under his skin, the itch he can’t seem to scratch because Kageyama is as calm as ever. He doesn’t spare Kei a glance after this, leaving the scene to retrieve another ball from the cart like nothing even happened.

Damn it, Kei thinks, damn it all, and gets into position to spike.

[. . .]

The next time it happens is at lunch.

Kei struggles to pinpoint when exactly Yamaguchi and him decided on taking their break in the courtyard rather than in their classroom; he thinks it started with Yachi coming to their classroom from time to time. She would share something found on the Internet that she thought could help, raise suggestions about team events and pass on any messages from Takeda-sensei. Eventually, it became a habit to the point where either Yamaguchi or Yachi invited Hinata and Kageyama along and Kei deemed it too much of a hassle to say anything about it. After all, he could always leave early like he had done so many times before during team outings in their first year, nothing more than a snarky comment and a shuffle of steps. It spoke volumes that he chose not to.

Because in reality it’s not _bad_. The speed at which Hinata munches on the contents of his bento box is alarming, if not disturbing, but he holds up quite amusing conversation in-between. Yachi is always keen on sharing her snacks. Her Kei never minded in the first place; she reminds him of Akiteru, pre-lies and post-disappointment. Kageyama is… well, there. Kei doesn’t think he can say much about what it is exactly that makes him an acceptable lunch company, but somehow it doesn’t feel right without him, either. The rare times when he doesn’t show up to class or chooses to spend the brief time off hitting a ball against the side of the building are odd, like a broken equilibrium or a watch that ticks in place. It’s almost as though his grumpy growl when he’s being taunted or his honest blue eyes when he’s impressed by a strategy Kei proposes are endearing, or whatever.

All of that begs to ask a question. Why on Earth does Kei insist on breaking this tentative peace by teasing Kageyama about his food, of all things?

(That he couldn’t tell you either.) 

“Does the King not know how to hold a knife, then?” Kei asks. He's referring to the skewed manner in which Kageyama’s lunch is cut, the wraps falling apart like it’s their last dying breath.

“Bullshit,” Kageyama retorts and bites an inhumanly big chunk off the wrap. His eyebrows furrow together, but it’s hard to tell whether it has anything to do with Kei’s remark or if he’s just focused on chewing. Kei got him to curse, though. This is good. He can work with this.

“I mean, we all knew you had no manners. But you can’t be royalty if you don’t know basic table etiquette,” Kei continues.

He can feel his heart pump faster.

“What the hell does _etiquette_ even mean?” Hinata asks, agitated. “You’re just being mean for no reason!”

Yamaguchi just looks at Kei disapprovingly and shakes his head. Kei doesn’t even see it. He only looks at Kageyama and his cheeks that are full with the contents of his ugly wrap, the downturned curve of his nose, the slim, deft fingers holding up his bento box so no crumbs fall on the grass.

The way his throat works as he swallows his food. Which should be such a weird thing to take notice of, but is no weirder than the way Kei has been behaving so far.

Then Kageyama finally looks at him.

“What’s your problem, huh?” he demands to know. Hinata backs him up with an enthusiastic battle cry and gets an elbow to the gut for his troubles.

“Maybe Tsukishima-kun is just tired, let’s not escalate this,” Yachi interjects softly. Distantly, Kei is impressed that she spoke up at all. More presently he feels bad about not planning on listening to her in the slightest.

“Aren’t you getting defensive,” Kei lilts in his typical annoying tone. “One might think you’re the one who has a problem with _me_. I’m not one of your perfectly obedient peasants, after all.”

“Does that mean you’re aware that you’re a bothersome peasant?” Kageyama fires back, voice getting louder.

Yamaguchi sighs, as if the cognitive demand of deciding whether it’s worth it to intervene is too much. Not as much is at stake here ultimately, with no potentially gullible underclassmen around.

“Takes one to know one,” Kei replies, cringing internally. His insults are starting to lower to Hinata’s level. He’ll have to work on that.

“So am I a King or a peasant? Choose one and stick with it,” Kageyama hisses through his teeth, turns away and goes back to eating his lunch.

 _Bothersome_ , Kei wants to say. I meant you’re bothersome, not that you’re a peasant. How stupid you are, and how stupid you make me. Instead he says nothing and the rush of having aggravated Kageyama dissipates, leaving behind a gaping emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

Before their ways part in front of their respective classrooms, Kei feels more than sees Kageyama’s intense stare fixate on him. He chooses to ignore it.

[. . .]

A week later during Saturday practice Kei is taking a water break next to Yamaguchi and Akito, a fellow middle blocker in his second year, when Kageyama walks up to them.

“Yamaguchi, Ukai-san and I just discussed rotations for next week’s training match. He says it would be beneficial to have Katsuo in the back to give him a chance to work on receiving serves,” Kageyama explains, gesticulating with a water bottle of his own.

Yamaguchi responds with something that has to do with what he thinks about Katsuo’s mental strength or lack thereof, Kei is sure. He just can’t manage to focus enough to catch the details, leave alone follow the thread of conversation enough to not be caught off-guard when Kageyama says:

“Tsukishima, what do you think?”

This is nothing shocking in and of itself. While there was a time when Kei needed a thorough kick in the butt to voice his opinion, this is no longer the case and he knows that Kageyama has come to value what he has to say. Even if it goes beyond Kei’s usual area of expertise, everybody knows him to be observant. Kageyama has asked him for his input before, this is not an anomaly. There is no reason for Kei to react unusually, either, and yet…

“Oh, Your Majesty. What a joy it is for you to consider my thoughts on the matter. I should feel honored, really,” Kei deadpans.

Kageyama’s eye twitches.

Ah, _yes_. That’s why.

“Akito, why don’t you go ask Yachi-san about today’s stats?” Yamaguchi says, voice even and contained.

Akito fumbles, unsure if he wants to be complicit in the murder he thinks is about to happen by letting it occur without his assistance, but finally listens and leaves.

“Why do you keep being an asshole?” Kageyama asks then. His fists clench where his arms are tense by his sides. “I thought we were past this.”

“I thought so too,” Yamaguchi echoes. Something about the way he’s letting Kageyama say his piece first makes Kei think he’ll get a proper scolding from his friend later.

“Whatever you mean, Your Highness. I was merely expressing my gratitude to you,” Kei laughs. A drop of sweat slides down the length of his neck.

“You can’t be serious,” Kageyama snarls. “It was okay last year. We worked… we worked... fine together!”

“Save it, King,” Kei replies, “you trying to pay me a compliment is just giving me a migraine.”

“I’m not– you stingy little– UGH!”

In the matter of seconds, Kageyama reaches for Kei’s collar, crushing it in his hand, and Kei is overcome with the feeling of déjà-vu.

“Tobio, if you don’t stop it right now I _will_ have you substituted next week and you know it,” Yamaguchi hisses.

“He started it,” Kageyama rasps. His face is so close now, Kei could have counted his eyelashes if he had as much of a grip on his composure as the first time he came this close.

“I know,” Yamaguchi says, “and I'll make sure it won’t happen again. Now let him go.”

The next few seconds stretch torturously slow. Kei can see the wheels turn in Kageyama’s head as he tries to calm down, angry red on his cheeks. The wheels spin in Kei’s in turn. This wasn’t Hinata level but it was nothing particularly infuriating or sophisticated either. Why is Kageyama so worked up? Why wasn’t he this mad last time, or the time before, or the time before, when Kei had laughed at him messing up his serve, taunting him that his skills are letting up?

Kageyama breathes out one last time and the warmth fans in Kei’s face. He shudders and doesn’t watch Kageyama leave.

[. . .]

All the scolding Yamaguchi has seemingly held back on since the year started comes back to bite Kei in the ass tenfold.

They walk home together, same as usual, with their bags’ dull thump against their backs as the only noise filing the space. Kei can taste the tension on his tongue, can feel his shoulders hunch up instinctively in the face of Yamaguchi’s fury.

( _What more do you need than pride?_ )

(What is it with people dragging him by his shirt, anyway.)

“What did Kageyama do to you, Tsukki?”

This is worse. So much worse, in fact, that Kei tenses up even further.

“I know you’ve never been the closest, but you made so much progress. I used to be proud. The clever blocker, my best friend, and the genius setter, my vice captain.”

This is disappointment, and Kei doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Yamaguchi stops walking.

“So tell me if he did something to warrant your pettiness. Because if he did, you know I will take your side. But if you’re just pulling on his pigtails for the fun of it…” The sentence remains unfinished.

Suddenly Kei registers that in his tension he forgot to swallow the saliva that has begun to pool in his mouth. He’s so nervous that he can’t stop doing it because it can’t stop filling his mouth and he can’t stop thinking. Yamaguchi doesn’t scare him, not really. What scares him is the very probable possibility of spilling his guts to him before he’s had the chance to come to terms with it himself.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi prompts.

“No, he didn’t do anything,” Kei answers on a sigh.

Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow, his face softening a little bit. _Then?_

“Listen, I’ll… I’ll figure it out. I promise,” Kei murmurs. It borders on a whisper, like it’s a promise he’s making to himself.

Yamaguchi breathes in and out deep. “How long?”

“Huh?”

He smiles. “Nevermind. How long do I give you until I put you on the bench instead of Kageyama?”

“You overestimate the disciplinary effect that would have on me,” Kei says and his eye roll screams relief.

Yamaguchi walks a step ahead, turns around and gives Kei one of his sunshine-y smiles, causing the last of his tension to bleed out.

“Quite the opposite. I think you underestimate it.”

[. . .]

The Monday that comes after their conversation feels like a fever dream.

While Kei woke up late Sunday morning due to having crashed and slept like a log on Saturday night, he gets no such luxury the night after. He rolls from side to side in his bed restlessly, praying that the flurry of movement will shake off his pesky thoughts that itch to investigate just why he’s made it his daily mission to make Kageyama angry.

Just why he seeks that adrenaline frenzy, the sight of their genius setter’s lips twisted in distaste, his clenched fists, his heavy breathing…

Kei rolls over.

His first idea is that he’s generally sick in the head. While that would be an easy explanation it doesn’t quite do justice to the circumstance that it’s just Kageyama he enjoys tormenting these days.

 _I thought we were past this_ , Kageyama had said. _You made so much progress_ , Yamaguchi had said. How right they both were.

They started out from rock bottom, really, Kageyama and him. Kei had heard all these rumors and if he was already going to waste his time on a club, why not make it more entertaining by picking on someone who was gonna give him as good as he got? Somebody who’s called the King of the Court, who was ostracized by his own teammates, called selfish and impossible. He ought to at least try to put Kei in his place.

Not that Kei would make it easy on him.

With time, though, Kei has come to learn the other side of the story. All of Kageyama’s quirks considered it makes perfect sense. He is impossible– impossibly driven, so much so that it blinds him. Kei can’t say he’s unfamiliar with that kind of thing, once blinded by his fear of being let down, now blinded by his inability to stop pushing the wrong buttons. It serves his purposes sometimes: he’s more careful than the average volleyball player, less careful with his biting tongue when he thinks it will help fire up a teammate. Hinata and Kageyama did pull through on that test, after all, once Kei insulted them into a new current of motivation.

It’s not helping the team right now though, and neither is it helping Kei to fall asleep.

Morning practice brings with it a screaming match. Kei doesn’t remember what he said, or what Kageyama said, just the way Kageyama’s nostrils flared when Kei mockingly bowed to him and Yamaguchi coming to break them up before they could begin to get into each other’s space. His finger in Kei’s face. The final warning.

Classes start and pass too. Kei is frustrated with his inability to focus, images of Kageyama jumping infiltrating his brain. His strong legs propelling him into the air, the material of his knee pads shifting to accommodate his flight. The way his hair flops away from his forehead when he tosses backward, the curve of his spine and the arc of the ball in perfect union. But then Kageyama with his stupid milk box, his stupidly cut wraps that he must have made himself, his stupid praises that Kei certainly doesn’t need.

It hasn’t been this bad before and Kei is nowhere close to figuring it out.

The cherry on top is all of this, whatever it is, carrying over into after-school practice. The cup runs over.

Kageyama sets to him perfectly (and even that infuriates Kei). They’re practicing crosses today and Kei runs up to the net at the right angle and right speed, but there he is, their reformed King. Kei sees him from the periphery – can’t help but not see him, really. His face, gaze open and soft, expectant. Waiting to see how Kei will spike his toss and cheer with him, for him.

It’s too much. His arm swings all wrong and he’s off-course and his hand smacks against the pole at full speed.

“Tsukishima!” Hinata yells.

“Tsukishima-san!” Akito echoes.

Kei lands, barely avoiding falling on his ass and catching himself with his left hand.

“Are you okay, does it hurt?” Yamaguchi asks, running up to him.

“Fine, fine,” Kei waves him off through waves of pain in his knuckles and fingertips. “Keep going.”

Then there’s Kageyama.

And Kei shudders. Because Kageyama shakes, because he’s so _furious_ like Kei has never seen him before. Somehow he almost wants to laugh. If he’d known all it would take to piss Kageyama off real good was to injure himself he would have done it a lot sooner. Perhaps he really is sick in the head.

“You’re bleeding, idiot,” Kageyama sneers, venom dripping from the insult. Kei just blinks, blinks again, before he dares to look down at his hand and the ginger cut that has opened up and is, in fact, bleeding.

“Try to look a little less surprised that I don’t bleed blue, King,” Kei responds, proud that at least his voice doesn’t give away how affected he is by Kageyama looking down at him like that. If his eyes make him look like a deer in the headlights, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Kageyama narrows his eyes even more. Then he turns to Yamaguchi and with a brief nod announces that he will take Kei to the clubroom to patch his hand up and for the team to resume the practice without them.

Yamaguchi stares back at Kageyama, hands on his hips. Clearly Hinata is no longer the only one able to hold telepathic conversations with the setter, because whatever is unsaid between them, it leads Yamaguchi to agree.

Kageyama walks off with sure, quick strides like he knows Kei will follow him. Under any other circumstances Kei would put up a fight, but he’s too tightly wired from lack of sleep, the countless times his brain has conjured up the image of Kageyama’s broad shoulders stretching his #2 jersey, drowning in Kei’s hoodies (and isn’t that pathetic, really–)

So Kei sighs and follows.

Outside of the room the noise of volleyballs thumping against the floor resumes. Kageyama opens one of the lockers that is designated for shared inventory and takes out a pack of bandaids.

“Why are you doing this,” Kei mumbles. It lacks the inflection to be a question.

“Huh?” Kageyama’s doesn’t. He sounds calm, actually, like practice has wrapped up and nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

Like he’s untouchable.

_Oh._

Kei clears his throat. “Being a benevolent King. It doesn’t suit you.”

Still, he walks over to the sink. Kageyama leans against it as Kei washes out the cut on his hand. He’s so damn close again, barely a hand’s length shorter and his eyes are glowering in their intensity.

When he hands Kei a towel their hands brush. How much of a wishful thinker would Kei be if he believed that Kageyama jolted because it’s _him_ , and not because it’s an unwanted touch?

But Kageyama poses an even more difficult question of his own.

“Did you figure it out, then?”

“Huh?” Kei echoes him from before.

At that Kageyama’s gaze falls to his feet. He shakes his head, his bangs flopping from side to side, murmuring something that Kei can’t quite hear with his back turned on him.

“Give me your hand,” Kageyama demands instead. Kei is still confused by the setter’s question, so he just lets it happen when Kageyama takes his hand in both of his, turns it over by the taped fingers and sticks the bandaid on so carefully that it hurts even more than before. It’s done. Kageyama doesn’t drop it.

“Kageyama,” Kei calls out. The dark blue eyes meet his immediately. One point for him, now it’s a tie–

Kageyama just looks at him, patiently, his mouth almost in a pout.

“Out with it,” Kei continues. “What did I figure out?”

“I’m not gonna say it if you don’t know.”

His composure is slipping and it’s not pretty. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kei gasps out. 

“Use your advanced class brain!” Kageyama yells.

“Shut up!” Kei yells back. “You’re– I’m–”

“I won’t,” Kageyama asserts, more quietly. “Not unless… you…” and digs his nails into Kei’s palm.

Kei swallows, the same nerves overcoming him as when Yamaguchi tried to make him talk, but it’s a million times worse. He can feel his chest constrict and the goddamn adrenaline, it’s past a point where it’s enjoyable because he’s so hypervigilant he can’t think about anything else but the blush on Kageyama’s cheeks, his open mouth.

His open mouth that feels like the fever he hasn’t been able to shake all this time against Kei’s. 

Kageyama must have met him halfway, Kei realizes, and it’s the last coherent thought he has before he realizes how clumsy their kiss is and laughs. Kageyama starts to back away, probably taking his laughter as rejection and Kei just can’t have that, so he rips his hand out of Kageyama’s grasp and puts it on his back to bring him impossibly closer.

“Tsu–” Kageyama manages before Kei eats it up and replaces it with a more necessant press, more teeth than anything. Kageyama presses back, his hands latching onto Kei’s neck, and his thumbs brush through the back of Kei’s hair, where it’s getting all long and curly.

They part for air. “Tsukishima,” Kageyama tries again and sighs. “Why are you biting me?”

“Because I hate you,” Kei says in return, his eyes fluttering open. Then: “Ah, who am I kidding. I’m sorry I kept making you angry. I guess I was trying to pull at your pigtails.”

Kageyama tilts his head to the side, frowning in confusion. “You have longer hair than I do. If one of us had pigtails, it would be you.”

Kei rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to say something equally annoyed and endeared, but Kageyama interrupts him.

“Just– stop acting like I don’t care about you, alright? It’s really pissing me off.”

Of all the things Kei had thrown his way… of course.

“You’re cute, King,” Kei says, giving up on the annoyed part. “Let’s see if I can believe that.”

“You will,” Kageyama says and nods, traces of that one track minded intensity in his eyes, like he’s casting a spell.

[. . .]

They lose the practice match.

It’s not completely unexpected. Katsuo did end up on the defense which he was decidedly not ready for and despite Kageyama’s best efforts the first year spikers and he were not quite in sync yet. It’s not life or death, Kei thinks.

Kageyama, though– he glowers all the way through the bus ride back to Karasuno.

He sits next to Yamaguchi, so Kei is left with the seat next to Hinata.

“Good job with the blocks today, Four-eyes,” Hinata says once Kei is settled.

“You talk to Bokuto-san too much,” Kei grumbles. “Good job with your new position.”

Hinata smiles, silence resting upon them for the next few minutes. Kei is just about to plug his headphones in, but of course that would’ve been too good to be true.

“So Kageyama and you had really good communication today.”

“Very observant.”

“Stop being difficult! We’re friends, you know. He doesn’t tell me anything.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fruitful friendship…?”

“Tsukishima!”

Hinata pins him down with his gaze. 

“I don’t know what you want to hear. We had some issues, we worked them out. Happy?”

“Quite,” Hinata says. “He was pretty worried. So much that he wouldn’t even do extra practice with me.”

Kei is so overcome with the pang his heart gives at the idea that this must be pretty high on the list of Kageyama’s coping mechanisms (apparently even above, well, extra practice with Hinata) that he ends up saying something stupid.

“I don’t get why it bothered him so much.”

Hinata blinks, evidently just as surprised as Kei himself. Then he scrunches up his face like he’s trying not to say something wrong.

“You know how Kageyama pushes all of us to work harder?”

Kei snorts. How could I not, when it even applies to kissing, he thinks.

“I talked to him about that once. He said that it’s because he sees something in us we can’t yet.”

“Potential,” Kei mumbles.

“Yeah. Well, maybe he also sees potential in you, based on all the times you weren’t a jerk to him. Maybe he likes that.”

Kei turns to look at Hinata, really look at him. “Thanks,” he says, throat dried out.

“Sure, Sincere-shima.”

The bus comes to a halt not too long after. The regulars trudge out, weariness in their bones after three long sets. Takeda-sensei’s speeches haven’t gotten any less poetic, but they’ve also gotten a whole lot more technical. Ukai announces that they are to go home for the day and meet tomorrow to debrief and practice.

The last ones to leave the clubroom are Kageyama, Yamaguchi and Kei himself. Yamaguchi leaves the keys behind on the table, asking Kageyama not to overwork himself.

“Tsukki, I’ll be going on ahead then,” he says with a mischievous glance in Kageyama’s direction.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Kei manages reflexively, annoyed by the blush that invades him.

“Didn’t say a thing,” Yamaguchi retorts and walks out with a pep in his step.

And then there were two.

“Kageyama,” he calls to the setter who stands with his back to Kei. “Do you think your simpleton mind can forget about volleyball for a minute and come over here to kiss me?”

Kageyama tsks. “What’s it to you all of a sudden?”

“Don’t ask so many questions,” Kei evades and takes off his sports glasses, depositing them safely in his locker. “Just let me…” he trails off and comes up behind Kageyama, so close he can smell the clean dampness of his hair.

Kageyama barely turns his head, just a little curious tilt, but Kei takes full advantage of how it bares his neck. He trails his lips over the back of Kageyama’s ear, the spot where his sharp jaw intersects with the skin of his throat.

“Relax,” Kei says, pointedly ignoring the way his heart threatens to beat out of his chest at the idea of having Kageyama at his disposal like this, hopelessly pliant. “If you don’t like something, tell me.”

Kageyama is silent, only the way his pulse flutters against Kei’s lower lip giving him away.

“Tell me,” Kei insists.

“Weren’t you the one who just told me not to ask questions?” Kageyama finally replies, but it lacks heat.

“How am I meant to serve my King well if he constantly keeps quiet? I can’t read thoughts, contrary to popular belief,” Kei says.

“For fuck’s sake,” Kageyama whispers, like Kei is not meant to hear it but he’s too close not to. It makes him smirk in satisfaction.

“Hmm,” is all that Kei offers in response and presses a chaste kiss to Kageyama’s neck. The next one is more daring, more wet. Kei uses his teeth, too: this is where he’s found Kageyama likes them, not on his lips. He can’t help but feel like this is doing it more for himself than for Kageyama, but so long as he doesn’t mind, what is there to do but indulge himself further?

“Tsukki,” Kageyama says, his voice fading out on a sigh. Such an old childhood nickname, yet it sounds tangy and unfamiliar from Kageyama’s lips. Distantly Kei hopes this is how Kageyama feels about _King_ now: a reclaimed term of fondness, a declaration of loyalty. “Come on.”

Kei thinks he means for him to hurry up and kiss him on the lips, but he has another thing coming. Kageyama steps away from him and moves a chair with the sole of his foot so that it’s propped up against the lockers, then grabs Kei by the wrist and gives him a gentle push.

“What do you want me to do?” Kei asks, unnecessarily, just to hear Kageyama talk.

“Sit,” Kageyama doesn’t rise to the bait, answers calmly. Kei takes his time, shuffling around Kageyama to plop down on the chair and make it as comfortable for himself as one can with his height and the coldness of metal against his back.

“Alright, I’m sitting. What now?”

“Now I’ve got my throne,” Kageyama says, stepping over the bags on the floor and sitting down in Kei’s lap.

Kei laughs openly, wholeheartedly. 

“How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Shut up,” Kageyama blushes and puts a hand on the lockers behind Kei’s head in some misguided attempt at kabedon. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, oh loyal _servant_.”

“Oh, now it’s on,” Kei sneers, grinning and wraps his arms around Kageyama. Like he’s trying to eliminate all the factors in the equation that are points where they aren’t touching, aren’t X.

Just as Kageyama’s extra volleyball practice, their kissing practice has been paying off as well. They set up a closed-mouthed rhythm, nothing about it slow or tender; that usually comes after, as a cooldown. Kageyama’s hands slide down to Kei’s shoulders, leaving shudders in their cold wake as they alternate between greedy exploration and caresses. Fingertips dip beneath the collar, where Kei’s shoulder blades are at their most tense. Kageyama kneads into them, making Kei moan.

“You asshole,” Kei breathes out, gripping Kageyama by his hips and pushing him upward so he doesn’t fall off.

“You talk a lot, but you’re not very honest,” Kageyama states.

Kei looks into Kageyama’s eyes, a silent _maybe. I’ll try harder_. Kageyama seems to be satisfied, if his answering smile is anything to go by.

Then they’re back on. Kei kisses back harder and Kageyama responds in turn. Objectively it’s not very efficient with how much air they swallow in-between every smack of their lips, but it feels too right not to, with Kageyama’s entire body moving in the direction he sets up. Kei lets him lead for a bit, lets him hold his chin with his nimble setter’s fingers and turn his face to the far left. Whatever makes the King happy, Kei thinks. _Whatever reminds him that I care_ , Kageyama thinks, but Kei doesn’t know that.

They separate for a bit and Kageyama murmurs that he needs air. He sticks out his tongue like a puppy, even making the huffy noises to go along with it.

“Dork,” Kei remarks with a shake of his head. “I have an idea.”

Kageyama doesn’t have time to voice how unsettling that statement is in its vagueness, before Kei leans forward, curving his neck, and latches onto Kageyama’s tongue with his lips.

“Whath–” Kageyama lisps, but stays perfectly still.

Honestly, Kei had only thought this far; he’s never done anything like this before, after all. But he hollows his cheeks unconsciously, just in order to maintain his hold as it threatens to slip away with how wet the underside of Kageyama’s tongue is. It seems to be doing something as Kageyama gasps in surprise. He’s careful not to suck too hard and finishes off with a peck, pulling away to gauge Kageyama’s expression.

“You like that?”

“How the hell.”

Kei shrugs his shoulders. “Give it a try.”

“Okay,” Kageyama says, so earnest in his determination that Kei can’t help but smile. “Stop smiling, I can’t kiss you like that!”

“Sorry for being happy, King,” Kei chuckles out, leaning against the lockers to maintain his smug pretense.

Kageyama smiles back, but then he quickly remembers what it is he set out to do. Kei doesn’t like that look in his eyes, not even one bit, because it spells trouble.

Trouble he gets indeed when Kageyama slides his hands down his shoulders again and pushes his hips forward, rolling them in a motion that is no less fluent than what Kei expects of somebody so in control of his body on the court. What he expects less is a distinct hardness pressed against his thigh.

“I take it you liked that then,” Kei notes, hoping to embarrass Kageyama but he doesn’t even listen, just kisses Kei with new vigor and seeks out his tongue with his own.

Kei isn’t sure what to do with that and the whole affair is admittedly a bit more slippery than what he feels comfortable with. Then, Kageyama replicates his newfound trick perfectly and Kei can't help but tighten his hands on Kageyama’s hips in silent appraisal. Not long after that Kageyama lets his tongue into Kei’s mouth again, painting a stroke against the roof of his mouth which is surprisingly sensitive.

“Interesting,” Kageyama rasps out. “I hadn’t thought there were so many different things we could do.”

“Oh?” Kei raises his eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ve seen even half of it,” and repositions his hand such that his right thumb presses into Kageyama’s inner thigh.

Kageyama, to Kei’s satisfaction, blooms red. “Here?”

“Only if you want,” Kei offers.

Kageyama seems to consider it. “That was honest, for once.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out and dives back in for a kiss.

Emboldened, Kei lifts his hands from Kageyama’s hips and slowly puts them on Kageyama’s ass. “How is that?” he asks between pecks.

“G… good,” Kageyama forces out. “You can…” he starts and tugs at Kei’s hair to demonstrate.

There’s barely any force in it, but it has Kei hum in an attempt to hold back any more moans. If Kageyama is as observant here as he is on the court he will have filed that for later.

So he complies. His fingers spread out to squeeze where Kageyama’s buttocks meet his thighs, and Kageyama responds by separating from their liplock to rain kisses on Kei’s neck. He sighs.

“Been wanting to do this,” Kageyama murmurs into Kei’s shoulder. Kei can feel himself twitch from the sound of those words alone; he thinks he’s created a monster with continuously asking Kageyama to verbalize his lust-filled thoughts.

So all he can manage in response is a breathy “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Kageyama says and seals it with a kiss to Kei’s collarbone. “You’re so infuriating when you’re all smug and shit.”

“Big words, King,” Kei responds, trying to take back some of the control by thrusting upwards, fingers now pinching, looking for sensitive spots.

“That…” Kageyama hisses at the friction. “Your whole servant spiel. It’s… filthy.”

“Whatever you mean,” Kei retorts. “It’s completely innocent and strictly volleyball-related.”

“Mhm,” Kageyama hums. He seems to let the conversation go, coming back up to kiss some more, and tugs at Kei’s lower lip with striking precision. Kei is happy to let him practice his tricks and encourages him with a hand that rubs along where he thinks Kageyama’s rim is, a promise of another day and a bed.

But Kei doesn’t let it go. He thinks about Kageyama’s gloomy expression on the bus, about Kageyama seeing _potential_ in him, the kind that isn’t being wasted. This boy really isn’t good for his health. Lucky for him, he has kneepads to cope with it.

“Let's switch.”

Kageyama groans in dissatisfaction. “What, did I get too heavy?”

“No such thing. Come on, just trust me.”

(So Kageyama follows him, too.)

“What are you gonna do?”

“What do you think, King?” Kei asks. “What does it look like, with you sitting with your legs spread and me between them?”

Kageyama looks down at his legs that are indeed quite far apart, and covers his mouth with the back of a hand. Him telling Kei to shut up is fruitless, really, because he’s just enjoying this too much either way.

“Tell me to stop,” Kei reminds, tucking his fingers into Kageyama’s shorts and sliding them down his sculpted legs.

“Don’t you dare,” Kageyama murmurs into his hand.

The angle is less than ideal for the teasing touches Kei had in mind, rubbing against Kageyama through his boxers, but that’s not what he’s here for anyway. Instead he squeezes Kageyama’s calves and uses his mouth right off the bat, tracing the curve of Kageyama’s cock from head to base where it’s pressed against his stomach. Kageyama lets out the lowest half moan, half sigh known to man.

This may just become Kei’s favorite kind of praise.

He circles his tongue around Kageyama’s balls, pressing kisses and absently wondering why he isn’t disgusted by them at all. Is it the cotton barrier?

To test that, there’s only one thing left to do. So Kei hooks his fingers into the final frontier and looks up at Kageyama for reassurance.

“Go, Tsukki,” Kageyama sighs out, hands seeking purchase against the chair's handles, and lifts his hips.

“Don’t tell me I’m not an obedient servant ever again,” Kei says with a crooked smile. Kageyama laughs, kicking his heels against Kei’s back.

Quickly, it molds into a groan as Kei jerks him, grip tight the way he’d do it to himself. The way he just might in a little while, if Kageyama makes any more of these noises.

“Will you–”

“Yeah,” Kei whispers, and guides Kageyama’s cock into his mouth.

It doesn’t taste like much, the pre-cum having been rubbed off by the underwear’s fabric. It’s just warm and solid. A strange sort of daze overcomes Kei with its shape filling out his mouth nicely; so he sits back on his heels, which he hopes will prove beneficial, and sucks his way down.

“Tsuk– oh,” Kageyama reacts, his voice thin and airy. It sends a jolt through Kei, as he works harder to take as much of Kageyama down his throat as he can. His throat constricts pretty quickly, but he just swallows around it and holds it there, waiting for the reflex to subside before coming back up for air.

“Talk to me, King,” he says, taking care to make his voice sound nonchalant, like he’s asking about the weather.

“Shut up. You’re not actually expecting me to give you commands, do you?”

“No way,” Kei says, suckling at the head. “We both know you couldn’t do that.”

“Ugh,” Kageyama groans. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. This… could stand to be a little less dry.”

“Hm,” Kei lets out in consideration. “I’ll see what I can do.”

What he can do turns out to be spitting in his hand. He tries to use it to coat Kageyama’s cock but frustration bubbles up with how it mostly just leaves his hand sticky and not the very place he needs to be wet. Kageyama catches on quickly.

“Let me try to,” he starts and spits down.

Whether it’s luck or not, it lands precisely on the crown of his cock. Kei chuckles incredulously. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Kageyama doesn’t dignify that with an answer beyond a quiet snort. Kei is content with a more experimentally grounded response in the future, as it is.

“Okay,” he says to himself and takes Kageyama’s tip in his mouth, using the saliva-riddled slide to move his hand that is now propped up against Kageyama’s knee for easier access.

“Yeah,” Kageyama sighs out.

“Yeah?” Kei questions, popping off and looking up at Kageyama.

Kageyama just nods breathlessly, unsure as to what kind of response Kei is looking for.

But Kei knows exactly what he wants as he takes Kageyama’s hand with his unsoiled one and puts it on his scalp.

Kageyama blinks, his eyes shifting between Kei’s locks and his amber eyes. _Are you sure?_ he seems to radiate.

“Come on, Your Highness,” Kei reassures. “Show me exactly what you like.”

And Kageyama doesn’t disappoint. He gently directs Kei’s lips to where he needs them most, one time right beneath the crown, another time at the slit. Kei moans when the gentleness is abandoned in favor of strength for a few tugs and his teeth come out just the slightest bit, not enough to hurt but enough to stimulate so much that the line between pleasure and pain blurs.

“Fuck,” Kageyama gasps and makes Kei pull off.

“Not good?”

“I,” Kageyama laughs, “I don’t know.”

“Then…” Kei hums, thinking for a moment, before going back to town.

The way he takes Kageyama’s cock into his mouth is innocent enough (relative to the circumstances), trying not to smile at how much deeper he can reach now. He bobs his head up and down, trying to catch the sensitive spots with his tongue. Kageyama’s thighs twitch around his head, but Kei can tell that it’s just enough to bring him to the edge, but not tip him over it.

What really does the job is when Kei begins to work his jaw as quickly as he can, effectively letting the head of Kageyama’s cock fuck into the tight space between his lips.

“Tsukki– oh– shit, you’re gonna make me come,” Kageyama’s breathing is erratic as ever.

“That’s the plan,” Kei rasps, licking his lips.

Once his jaw no longer aches he’s back at it, bringing Kageyama back to that precipice. It’s beautiful, it really is, the way Kageyama shakes and arches and the noises he makes. But Kei has long since forgotten about touching himself, zeroing in on his goal. On the feeling of Kageyama’s cock sliding in and out of the heat of his mouth, faster, harder–

And finally, that tiny hint of teeth again, the one that made Kageyama hiss–

It’s exactly the level of friction it seems to take. Before Kei knows it Kageyama is coming right into his mouth, hips stuttering through his orgasm and chest heaving in that damned #2 jersey.

It’s more than what Kei expects so he pulls off before Kageyama comes down, feeling the rest land around his tightly closed lips.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t w–”

Kei swallows. “It’s fine.”

Kageyama watches him, entranced. They hold eye contact for a few moments, nothing but Kageyama’s slowing breathing filling the room. What Kageyama chooses to break the silence with then, is:

“Is it very bitter?”

Kei blinks. “The aftertaste is. But it’s not too bad.”

Kageyama covers his face with his hands, suddenly embarrassed. Kei shakes his head, in that familiar endeared-eye-roll zone, and kisses his knuckles as he stands up to stretch his legs. The joints crack, predictably, but Kei doesn’t think he’ll have anything to show for it.

He leans against the lockers, sighs. This kind of silence is one he could get used to, Kei thinks. Especially with Kageyama’s face coming into view from the side, going in for a kiss and his hands creeping lower, past shorts and underwear, rubbing slowly enough to give him an out.

It’s a little too late for that, Kei thinks, as he envelops Kageyama’s hand on his cock with his own, faster, harder, and sings euphoria into his king’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> underclassmen names borrowed from [to days past](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941615), a lovely fic exploring tsukki as captain/kags as vice and with a lot of inspiration from [care and feeding](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1439179) for a genius soft take on those two. thanks for reading u.u
> 
> find me on [twt](http://www.twitter.com/wanderbock)


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